


Impossible Things

by republica



Category: DCU
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Kid Fic, Libraries
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-03
Updated: 2012-11-01
Packaged: 2017-11-06 17:25:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/421438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/republica/pseuds/republica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. Stephanie Brown never became a full-time hero, and kept her baby. 5 years later, Tim's working part time in a library and meets a very interesting kid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. twas brillig and the slithy toves

**Author's Note:**

> Firstly, I apologise for completely messing up any semblance of chronology. Tim is Red Robin, he's about 19. Steph's about 20. I'm not sure what age Steph was when she was pregnant in canon, but I put it at about 15. Second, turn back if you don't like fluffy kid!fic. Future chapters will be more serious, but the first two chapters are basically cotton candy. Third, this is unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine.

It wasn't a busy day at the library. A homeless man was sitting in the fiction section, but Burt was a big fan of Tolstoy and had been working his way through Anna Karenina for a week and a half, so Tim let him stay. His boss might not have approved, but Tim was working solo for once. Two college-aged guys had disappeared into the microfilm an hour ago, but they clearly knew what they were doing and needed no assistance.

Peaceful. It was cool but not cold, the gentle hum of the air con was soothing, and Tim could settle into an easy rhythm of checking in returned books. The library was fairly new, and on the weekends there were lots of kids and parents streaming through. Tim preferred the slow days, if he was being honest. He got more done, and parents didn't hassle him. He liked the kids, but he didn't like mangled books, and telling off a child for damaging one had earned him rants from enraged moms and dads.

He loaded a pile of books onto a cart for re-shelving. The wheel squeaked as he rolled towards the W-Z stack.

Libraries were full of order, and Tim had respect for order. His life had always lacked it - where was order when you spent half your life in a costume fighting crime? There was no Dewey Decimal system for that. It was easier when you could separate it all out, everything in its place - but that was what worried him about Bruce, the difference in and out of the mask was like split personality sometimes. Tim didn't want to be like that: so obsessed with the fight it affected him to the core. He wanted to be Tim in and out of costume.

Of course, the question was, who is Tim? Timothy Drake? Timothy Wayne? Red Robin? He moved down the stacks, sliding the books back in their places. He could imagine Dick's voice chiding him for all this introspection. That was just Dick, though, who never spent as much time in his own mind as Tim. It helped him to consider these things - tough questions wouldn't get answered if he avoided thinking of them.

He heard the doors to the library swing open, and the sound of a child's voice. He finished the last few books in M-O, then wheeled the cart back out into the main area. There was a tiny blonde child looking around the room, mouth open wide. She was maybe five, though Tim wasn't the best at ages. Definitely old enough that she should be in school, he knew.

She also didn't seem to have a parent. Tim frowned, settled the cart at the back of his desk, and went over to her.

"Hi!" She greeted him, "this place has a lot of books!"

Tim raised an eyebrow at her. "It’s supposed to," he replied. "But I don’t think you’re supposed to be here without an adult.”

She stuck her tongue out at him.

“You brat!” the door to the library banged open again. “How many times have I told you to wait for me?”

Tim looked up to see another blonde entering the building. She looked around his age, and out of breath. She was also smiling, lessening the effect of her rebuke. The little girl squealed and ran to hug her – sister’s? legs. “But you’re so slooooow.”

“Look at all the books!” she said, shifting topics rapidly – “This is way better than the other library.”

Tim moved back behind his desk, but out of the corner of his eye he saw the older girl smile. “I know, birdie – that’s why we came. And hey, if you ask politely, maybe the nice man will tell you where the kids section is.”

Tim felt his face go warm. He tried to school his expression as the two walked over towards his desk – why did he care that she’d said that? He didn’t know her from Adam.

“Hey, mister!” The little girl said, bouncing on her feet.

“Manners, Crystal!”

“… Excuse me, mister?” The girl tried again, “Where’re the kids books?”

Tim pointed to his left. “Right through there.”

“Thank you!” Crystal said, turning back to her sister.

“Go on, birdie, I’ll catch up in a minute,” the older girl said, and Crystal bounded off.

“Sorry about the noise,” She said, pulling a few books out of her bag and setting them on the desk. “I don’t think she’s gotten the library equals quiet idea yet. Or she does, and willfully ignores it anyway.”

Tim slid the books towards him, flipped open the first one and scanned it back in.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “There’s no one here to disturb, really. Tuesday’s aren’t our busiest day.”

“Yeah, we were at the East branch on Saturday and she got in a fight with another kid about Harry Potter.” The woman looked rueful. “I don’t think I can show my face in there ever again. Thank God they opened this place last month.”

Tim smiled at that, and she grinned back. Her eyes were bright blue. Tim swallowed and looked back down at the books, keeping his hands busy.

“Hey, if you’re not too busy – got any recommendations?”

“For you, or for Cry – your sister?” Tim stumbled awkwardly over the words and went slightly red again. Using her name might come across as creepy.

The woman eyed him for a minute. “She’s not my sister.”

“Sorry, I – oh – wait.” Tim blushed deeper. “Your… daughter?”

The woman nodded, and her eyes closed off like she was expecting him to say something. Tim’s brain was already calculating – if she was around his age, and Crystal was four at the youngest…

“Never mind.” The woman said, her tone suddenly ice cold. Tim snapped his head back up – she was walking away, shoulders tight.

“What? No, wait!” He said, and tried to move out behind the desk. His foot caught on the side and he stumbled, the edge of the desk digging painfully into his thigh. “Ow! Look, I wasn’t – I didn’t mean to upset you,” he continued, limping after her.

Crystal was sitting with a pile of books next to her, and she looked up as they entered. “Hi, Mama.” She said as her mother came in.

“Don’t,” the woman said to Tim.

“That’s not fair,” Tim pointed out. “I wasn’t judging you or anything, I swear.”

She stared at him, eyes hard. He met her gaze squarely, and after a minute, she looked away.

“Sorry,” she said, and her shoulders slumped. “It’s just – a lot of people do.”

Crystal looked between them, and Tim would’ve bet she understood a lot more than she let on.

“You,” she said, looking to him, “Help me find stories? – _please_.” The final word was said with a pointed look at her mom.

Tim settled on the floor next to her and after a minute her mother did the same.  
“What kind of books do you like?” he asked.

“All kinds,” Crystal answered. “I read really good.”

“Really _well_ ,” her mother corrected with a smile. “And don’t pretend like I don’t read _to_ most of the time.”

Tim turned to search through the books and after a moment, pulled one from the shelf. He handed it to Crystal. “You might like this one.”

“A-alice’s… Ad – Adv – Adv…“

“Adventures,” her mother prompted.

“In W-wonder…land?” Crystal continued. “Where’s that?”

Her mother laughed. “It’s not real, honey. If you like it, maybe we can rent the movie version.”

Crystal’s eyes lit up. “Oh, can we? I’ll like it, I _promise_.” She shoved the book into Tim’s lap. “Will you read it to me, mister?”

Tim glanced at her mother, then his watch. Lunch break started in fifteen minutes – and it was really quiet.

“It’s okay if you have to work,” her mother said.

“Actually, my break just started,” Tim lied. “Is it… okay? With you?”

She shrugged. “She makes you do voices.”

Tim laughed at that. “I bet your Hagrid is spot-on.”

“’Ey now, don’t yeh knock me skills,” She said in a deep voice. Crystal dissolved into laughter and Tim had to smile, too.

“By the way,” Tim said, “I’m Tim.”

“Stephanie. But it’s Steph.” she replied, and grinned. “Now, let’s hear your White Rabbit.”

Tim picked up the book and opened it. Crystal moved until she was nearly sitting in his lap. He quirked an eyebrow at Steph, who looked like she was trying not to laugh. She likes you, she mouthed at him, and he felt his face go red again. He quickly looked back down at the book.

_“Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the bank, and of having nothing to do…”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT: secret agents and sprinkles


	2. all mimsy were the borogroves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More undiluted fluff. More weird chronology. Write off any inconsistances as me twisting canon to fit the story, and not as me failing at the DCU.

They came back on Friday morning, as Tim was entering new books into the database. It was another quiet spell, or it was, until the door flew open and –

“Curiouser and curiouser!” Crystal cried, dancing into the hall. Tim’s head flew up at the sound, body tensing at the noise. Patrol last night had left him sore and tired. Large parts of his body ached, and he was bruised despite his costume’s defenses. Still, he felt himself smile at the pair of them.

“Hush!” Steph silenced her daughter, with a grimace towards Tim. He shook his head.

“Sorry, Mama. Hi, Mister Tim!” Crystal said in a loud whisper.

“Hello,” Tim greeted her. “So, you liked the book then?”

“We didn’t finish it yet, but _someone_ wanted to come back and see you again,” Stephanie said, nudging Crystal, who squeaked and hid behind her legs with a mortified “ _Mama!”_

“I wasn’t complaining,” Steph continued with a wink in Tim’s direction.

Tim… well, it would be a lie to say he hadn’t thought about her, either. There weren’t so many attractive blonde women in his life he could ignore one who seemed – who he thought seemed – interested in him. She certainly hadn’t been subtle about eyeing him as she checked out the books on Tuesday.

She was around twenty, he figured, rounding up. If Crystal was four – though he was fairly certain she wasn’t, given her reading ability – Steph had been 16 when she had her. He’d wondered about the father, and how he fit in their life – was Tim infringing? But he’d decided Steph didn’t seem the type to flirt with other guys behind her baby daddy’s back. And not too many guys stuck around for this long, statistically speaking. It was possible, but unlikely. She didn’t have a ring, which made it even less likely.

He set down the scanner and moved out from behind the desk, shaking hair from his eyes. He had to stifle a yawn, though – he’d gotten to bed at six, woken at nine.

“Late night?” Steph asked him.

“Yeah,” Tim replied. _And a murder case that led me to ten armed thugs._

“Out with your girlfriend, eh?” She said. To the point, he thought with a mental laugh.

“No,” he replied. “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Oh,” Steph replied and smiled. “Me neither – I mean, I don’t have a boyfriend. Or a girlfriend, actually.”

Crystal tugged at his hand. “Mister Tim, will you choose another book for me? You know good books.”

Tim tore his gaze from Steph’s and looked down. “Sure thing.”

He’d spent a half hour yesterday finding books he thought she’d like. He wasn’t sure what that meant.

“This one has a lion on it, Mama!” Crystal said, picking up _The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe._

“I wasn’t sure how you felt about heavy handed God metaphors,” Tim told Steph, “but I figured she’d probably like it.”

“We don’t go to church or anything, so I think they’ll fly right over her head,” She joked back. “Plus, that one has a movie too.”

“I have to actually work today,” He said with an apologetic note. “Or I’d stay and read – if you wanted me to, I mean –“

“Go, you slacker!” Steph gave him a little shove and laughed. “We’ll manage without you, somehow.”

He went back to his desk. Lifting a large pile of books made his arm twinge sharply – it had been dislocated last night, and he’d had to pop it back in himself. “Dammit,” he said, covering his face with his hands. His shoulder pounded dully. He hadn’t thought it was that bad, though the limb had ached something fierce the whole evening before he went to bed.

“Hey – you okay?” Steph asked and he turned, trying to clear his expression.

“Sure – just a headache,” he said.

She looked skeptical. “Why are you favoring your arm, then?”

He met her eyes, surprised. “I – what?”

“Whatever, have your secrets, mystery man. I like a little enigmaticness in a person.”

“I’m not sure that’s a word,” Tim told her drily.

“It is now, since I just said it.” She replied. “So. When do you get off?”

“ - What?”

“Of work, you big perv.”

Tim went bright pink. “Oh – um. Two thirty.”

“Damn,” Steph said. “Crystal’s got Little League at two.”

What did that mean? Tim wondered. He didn’t say anything.

Crystal wandered back out with three of the books.

Steph glanced down, then back at Tim, and grinned. “So, how do you feel about breaking a few rules?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Which rules are we talking about?”

“My turn for some mystery.” She turned to her daughter. “What are your thoughts on donuts, birdie?” Crystal grinned hugely back.

“Tim, what’s your favorite?” Steph asked him. He shot her a puzzled look. “If you let her pick, she’ll choose one with pink sprinkles.”

“Mama, they’re the best kind!”

“I do have a certain fondness for pink sprinkles.” Tim said solemnly. “Don’t tell anyone.”

Crystal giggled. “Anybody who doesn’t like sprinkles is a loser! It’s the law.”

“The sprinkle police are after me, then,” Steph said. “Quick, we better run! Leave the books with Tim, we can get them when we get back.”

Crystal obliged, and Tim was left staring after them. His arm didn’t hurt as much, at least.

 

Fifteen minutes later, her blonde head reappeared at the door. “Mister Tim?” She whisper shouted. He looked up. Steph wasn’t with her. Had something happened?

“What is it, Crystal? Where’s your mom?”

“Shh, Mister Tim. Don’t blow my cover! Here!” She darted over, dropped a piece of paper in his lap, and hid under his desk.

It was a message written on the back of a 7-11 receipt.

_Agent Blue,_

_I have procured the items. I have a plan to smuggle them into the premises, but I need your help. If there are no enemy agents waiting to dismantle my operation, send word back via Agent Sprinkle._

_Agent Purple._

He had to laugh. He was working alone, and he didn’t think Burt would care – he was on to Dostoevsky.

“Agent Sprinkle?” He said, and Crystal giggled. “Tell your mom – Agent Purple – that she can come in.”

“Yes, sir!” Crystal said, and went back outside. A minute later, she and Steph re-entered, carrying a bag and two coffees.

“So, why am I Agent Blue?” He asked as she set one of the coffees in front of him.

“Your eyes are really blue,” she told him.

“So are yours.”

“Yeah, but I like purple.” She spread out napkins over the desk and set out two pink sprinkle donuts and one powdered.

Tim reached for the coffee – “I assume this is for me, unless you’re raising a future midget?”

“Cheers,” Steph said and bumped her cup against his. “Don’t even wanna try and imagine this terror on caffeine. Sugar is bad enough. Come on, birdie – before Tim

eats your donut.”

“If he does I’ll send him down the rabbit hole,” Crystal said.

“That sounds ominous,” Tim commented, taking a bite of the ridiculously pink confection.

“My little mob boss,” Steph joked. “Give the Mad Hatter a run for his money in themed villainy.”

“What?” Tim said sharply, looking up. What did she know about those types?

“Oh, I shouldn’t joke about that stuff, I guess. But honestly, how do those guys ever take themselves seriously?”

“I don’t know,” Tim said – he watched her from the corner of his eye. The Mad Hatter wasn’t one of the more famous bad guys to work in Gotham. “Should we be –?” he nodded towards Crystal.

“She can handle herself,” Steph said. Her face closed off. “We’ve had to for five years.”

What did that mean? Tim had refrained from prying into any part of their lives. Still – that raised some red flags. He’d even stopped himself from looking up her name and address in the library database. That would be creepy, even for him.

“I’m almost six, Mama!” Crystal said, indignant. The sudden shift in mood hadn’t affected her.

“I remember the day just as well as you do, birdie,” Steph said. “Possibly much more vividly.”

Tim’s fingers itched to search her file. He settled instead for taking a sip of his coffee.  They are in silence for a few minutes. Steph was staring at the wall of posters on the wall next to his desk, clearly lost in thought.

“Look, I’m sorry –“ Tim said, not sure what exactly he was apologizing for, but feeling the need nonetheless.

Steph reached out a hand to his face, cutting him off. She rubbed a finger over the top of his lip.

“You had some – icing, on your face,” Steph said. She turned slightly pink. It was the first time he’d seen her blush. It was charming.

“Oh,” he replied like an idiot.

“Listen, are you working tomorrow?” She continued, plowing over his attempted apology.

“Sure, yeah,” he said, curious. “I’m off at three.”

“I hope this isn’t too forward, but. Can I – come by? We could get lunch or something, maybe.”

“Definitely.” Tim said, and she smiled at him. He was very fond of that smile, especially after only two meetings. It went all the way to her eyes and made them shine. It made him want to smile back, so he did.

“Cool.” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steph's history with be explained more later - if you're wondering why her daughter's got the same name as her mother... just wait! 
> 
> NEXT: Tim is a creeper, and an actual date!


	3. the mome raths outgrabe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Crystal this chapter, so if you don't like her... you're in luck? 
> 
> Also, not sure how realistic creeper!Tim is, but, eh. Enjoy.

It wasn’t a very nice area. Not too far from the library, but across one of the invisible lines that divided up the city. Tim was balanced on an outcropping of stone directly across from a dingy apartment block. His curiosity had gotten the best of him – after Steph and Crystal had left, he’d peeked at her library file. That was it though – he didn’t use any of the many resources to hand to find out more about their lives.

So he didn’t know more than that she lived here – Apartment 2A. He could deduce a few things from it, though. First, she wasn’t financially stable. The only reason a single mother would chose to live in this area was the low rent. It did raise the question of where her parents were. It was possible she’d been kicked out as a pregnant teen.

Living in this area might explain the fact that she could casually joke about criminals. In his line of work it was common – but most civilians he met were more frightened by the crazies. Most people knew someone who’d been killed by one villain or another. 

A twitch of movement caught his eye. The door to the apartment building opened and – Steph walked out. She was wearing a long gray jacket, an odd choice for the warm May evening. Tim watched her until she turned the corner, then made a decision. If she stayed around here, it was likely he’d be find people up to no good and the patrol wouldn’t be entirely selfish. His conscience twinged slightly, but he ignored it. He was just scoping things out.

Her journey stopped at a seedy bar a few minutes away. Tim had been in there a few times to hassle crooks for information.

He heard the soft sound of someone landing behind him. He turned, but it was only Dick. Who had no reason to be in Gotham…

“What’re you doing here?” Tim said.

“Hello to you too,” Dick replied with a grin.

“Hello, Nightwing. Why are you here?”

“Well, y’see, when a man and a woman love each other very much…”

Tim rolled his eyes.

“Dropped in to talk to the man about some business – thought I’d stop by and say hey. What’s up?” 

Tim turned to glance at the bar, then back to his brother. “Not much.” He didn’t want to give away anything.

“And what is ‘Not much’s’ real name?” Dick waggled his eyebrows. “Or did you just follow that pretty blonde girl down here for kicks?”

Tim sighed. “She’s not a criminal – or, I don’t think she is. I hope not.”

Dick gave him a look. “Wait – are you stalking a girl you have a crush on? Tim, you dog.”

“Not stalking,” Tim protested. “Just… investigating.”

“Okay, Detective Creep. Just promise me no bunnies will be boiled.” But Dick was teasing him. Tim glared and turned back to watch the bar. Steph had gone inside while they were talking.

“She said something weird,” he told Dick. “Or maybe it wasn’t weird and I’m paranoid.”

“You? Never.”

He wouldn’t get anything else until her shift ended. Time to find some actual work…

It was just then that the door to the bar burst open and a crowd of angry people flooded out, mid brawl. Tim hadn’t been wrong about finding shady business going on nearby.

Dick was already swinging down into the fray. Tim held back for a minute, trying to figure out the sides. He recognized three separate gangs represented. Was it just a brawl, or was it related to that?

He followed after Dick – watching as the bouncer tried in vain to restore order before taking a heavy whack to the face that sent him down. His brother seemed to be handling everything fine, and he was so distracted he went inside before remembering where he was.

Steph was behind the bar. He saw why she’d been wearing the long coat – her uniform top was low cut and the skirt was very short. She hadn’t noticed him come in yet.Tim looked away. The place was nearly empty, though a few older guys were laughing at the idiots fighting outside. 

“Um – Have you called the police?” Tim said, cursing himself for sounding hesitant. Steph glanced up and dropped the glass she was holding. It shattered on the bar top causing her to curse then blush.

“Yeah – yes, I did,” She said, grabbing a trashcan and sweeping at the broken glass.

“Is this a routine occurrence, or would you say something bigger is going on?” Tim had to shove aside any personal feelings to focus on the case. If there were shifts in gang territory, it could lead to more street violence that might sweep up the whole city. 

Steph shook her head. “I don’t know. I just got here when it happened, sorry.” 

“Thank you for your time, ma’am.” Tim said, feeling off balance. “If you could keep an ear open for any talk… it would be helpful.”

“Sure! I can do that.” Steph said quickly. “Anything I can do to help. And - thank you, Red Robin.”

It was surreal hearing her say his codename. Tim turned without saying anything else and left. Dick had subdued the brawlers, and there were sirens only a few blocks away. 

“That was… weird.” Tim said after they’d gone back to perching on a rooftop a few blocks away. 

“Leaving me to handle all the tough stuff while you flirt with your boo?” Dick teased. “It’s like we swapped places.” 

It was an exaggeration – Dick combined the flirting and fighting. 

“I just – I haven’t really dated anyone who didn’t know about … this,” Tim said, gesturing to his costume, “since Ariana. And that was … almost six years ago.” 

“Have you gone out or anything yet?”

“We have a date tomorrow.”

“Get to know her more before you freak out about it,” Dick advised him. “I know how hard that is for you, but seriously.”

“Ha ha,” Tim rolled his eyes at his brother.

But he would try, at least.

~*~

It was a tiring Saturday. The kids were there in force, as it was the opening day of a series of readings by famous celebrities. The star of a popular kids show had just finished Where The Wild Things Are, and parents and children were milling around. It was like herding cats. Cats that came attached to angry watchful guardians. Who liked to yell at Tim.

“How dare you touch my daughter?” The woman had a face like a harpy. Tim watched impassively as her nostrils flared and her shark-like teeth gleamed.

“Ma’am, your daughter was eating a book.”

“She is a creative soul who needs to be free to be herself without judgement!”

The daughter in question was too young to even walk. The mother had set her down on the ground and promptly begun flirting with a much younger dad. Tim had tried to pry the book from her mouth gently, incurring the woman’s wrath.

He opened his mouth to apologize and back away. The book was safe, and his shift ended in a ten minutes. But the woman talked right over him. “You people - “ and Tim had no idea what exactly that was referring to – “you people only want to stifle my daughter’s spirit. Society is already placing obstacles in her path without you smother her freedom of expression!”

“Well, she’s free to express herself by not eating books,” a familiar voice said. Tim whirled to see Steph, hand on hip, giving the woman the most incredulous look. “Maybe if you took thirty seconds from slobbering on Mr. Too-Young-For-You to actually pay attention, you’d notice.”

Tim wanted to hug her. The mother gaped at Steph. “What do you know about raising a child?” She demanded.

“A lot more than you do, lady. Now get your kid before she chokes on a lego.” Steph turned to Tim. “Are you ready to go?”

Tim was busy trying not to laugh at the woman who was red as a tomato. “Yeah,” he choked out. “I’m just about done.”

He gathered his jacket quickly, and they ducked out of the library together.

“Thanks,” Tim said.

“Does that happen a lot?” Steph asked him.

“Often enough,” Tim replied. “I can deal with it, most days.”

“Jeez, I couldn’t handle that level of idiocy. Some people just shouldn’t be allowed near kids. Especially when they name them Bentley. What is she, a sports car?”

Tim huffed a laugh. “Better than Porsche.”

“Hi, my name is… Lamborghini Aston Martin Brown!” Steph joked. “Hey, so where do you wanna go?”

Tim raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you supposed to pick, since you asked me out?”

She shrugged. “There’s a nice coffee place right around here. I live pretty close by, so I know a few spots. What are you in the mood for?”

“Coffee is good,” Tim said. “So, you live around here?”

She told him her street name. “It’s not the best place, but it’s good enough for us.”

Tim decidedly didn’t mention that he’d spent a while on that very street the previous night.

“Just you and Crystal?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Just the two of us.”

He didn’t pry and she didn’t offer. They reached the coffee shop, which wasn’t crowded. It was a cute place with big comfy chairs. Steph ordered a large hot chocolate with extra whipped cream. Tim got coffee, black.

“I’ll pay,” he offered.

“I don’t need your charity.”

“I – no, I wasn’t trying to –“ he said, flushing. She kept catching him off guard.

She laughed. “Relax, I’m just messing with you. And, since I asked you out, technically I should be paying.” She handed over the cash.

They sat. “How about you? You a Gotham kid, too?”

Tim nodded. “Lived here my whole life. I live… uptown, though.”

“A rich kid. I should’ve guessed.” She grinned at him. “What’re you doing in a library four blocks from the ghetto?”

He shrugged. “I needed something to do with my time and I like books?” He didn’t say that the library had pretty much been his idea, or that its creation had been funded by an ‘anonymous donation’.

“Nerd.” But she sounded fond.

He took a sip of the bitter coffee. It was good and hot.

“Not like I can talk, anyway,” she said. “My job sucks.”

Tim could imagine. “What do you do?”

“Bartender. It’s the only thing I could find that’s at night, so I can be with Crystal in the day.”

Tim watched her sip her own drink. It left a foamy mustache that she licked off unselfconsciously. He tracked the movement, then looked down. There was a long shallow gash across the side of her hand. He brushed his fingers over it. Steph froze at his touch, and he drew his hand back quickly.

“Glass – I shattered a glass, last night,” she muttered after an awkward beat. “There was a huge barroom brawl.”

Tim hated how he had to lie. He also hated that it was from the glass she’d dropped when he surprised her.

“Sorry,” Tim said, not sure if he was apologizing for the touch or for inadvertently causing the injury.

“It’s okay.” She smiled at him softly. “Capes turned up to save the day.”

Tim’s ears were burning, and he was glad his hair covered them. “Oh?”

“Yeah, and the cops shut down the place to investigate – something about gangs? I didn’t hear anything but them saying I’d have tonight off.”

“Any exciting plans?”

“Yes, I thought Crystal and I might hit the club.” She said drily. “She’s a great wingman.”

Tim snorted into his coffee.

They ended up sitting for a long time after they’d both finished coffee. Steph was animated and chatty. She seemed less wary than she was with her daughter, more like a twenty-year old woman. Tim couldn’t imagine the stress of her situation, but all her mentions of her life were offhand or joking. She didn’t complain. Tim admired it, and he admired her smile and her bright blue eyes. She made him laugh.

“I can’t believe I haven’t even known you a week,” Steph said after she stopped giggling at one of his remarks. “It feels like a lot longer, you know? Although people have told me I’m overly familiar.”

Tim felt warm. “Yeah,” he said in a soft voice. “I feel like that, too.”

He walked her home. Or, at least, to her apartment building. It was broad daylight, and anyway – Tim could handle anyone who came after them.

They paused at the overhang of the building. She was looking at him, and he was fairly certain it was a look that Meant Something. She wetted her lips and he tracked the movement before looking back up at her eyes. 

“Boys!” Steph scoffed, before she pressed her mouth to his. Her lips were warm and he kissed back. It was chast and sweet, and when she pulled away after a minute, her eyes were soft. Tim’s mouth tingled from the contact, and he reached up to stroke her cheek with the back of his hand.

“See you soon,” she said, and it’s wasn’t a question. He nodded, and she turned and disappeared into the doors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT: true identities revealed ....


	4. oh frabjous day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. We can get it out of the way that it's been a billion months since I updated this. 
> 
> And then I will tell you that this isn't really a full update, either. It's a half finished chapter-ish thing I figured I'd post because I wrote it. And then I got busy and stopped being that interested in this. If I get any more inspiration I'll continue adding to it. 
> 
> I apologise, as well - this was where I was going to begin explanations of Important Things..

 Bruce was waiting for him at the Cave. Tim had mentioned the bar fight offhandedly, not expecting it to matter much when Batman had bigger things to worry about. He’d been wrong. Apparently Bruce had been tracking the movements of the three most prominent gangs in Gotham, and the bar fight was the latest of many low level clashes that had taken place over the last month.

“Hey, Alfred,” he said as he dismounted from his bike into the brightly lit Cave.

“Master Timothy, a pleasure as always. Might I bring you some tea?”

“That’d be great.”

 

            Bruce gave him a nod as he climbed up to the control panels. They were displaying a large detailed map of Gotham, with various pinpoints that Tim deduced represented gang sightings and other information pertaining to the new case.

            “What’s going on?” Tim asked, studying the data. “You think someone new is moving into town?”

            “That’s what we need to find out,” Bruce replied. “I’ve gotten news of a big player that’s making his way into the business, and from what I hear this “Mask” guy isn’t someone to trifle with.”

            “Mask?” Tim asked.

            “His name is Roman Sionis, but he goes by ‘Black Mask,’” Bruce hit a few buttons and a mugshot of the man popped up, next to a more recent photo of the man wearing his namesake. “Don’t know much about him yet, but Oracle’s been working on it.”

            “And how is this connected to the fight Dick and I were at?”

            “Mask is trying to pit the three big players against each other; it’s trickling down into the lower level scum. We’ve seen a marked increase in activity since he appeared on our radar.”

            Alfred brought him a steaming cup of Earl Grey, and left the tray with another mug next to Bruce.

            “What’s our plan of action, then?” Tim asked. “Why’d you need me out here?”

            “I’m going to have a conversation with Penguin. Thought you might want in.”

           

            It was 5 am when Tim stumbled back to his apartment and into his bed. They’d spent hours ‘talking’ to the Penguin and then to other major players on the scene. Reports about the Mask were varied and ranged from “he has an actual skull! on his face!” to somewhat useful information.

            Until they’d reached the last guy. He wasn’t anyone that Tim had heard of before, just a thug called Danny.

            “Yeah - I seen this Mask guy - or at least, I know somethin’ might be useful to you. I heard his second in command, likes to hang out at a joint called Marty’s.”

            Tim was not pleased. Steph’s bar was called Marty’s, and there was no way it was a coincidence.

            It had also left him in the awkward position of telling Bruce about his personal life. He’d been accepting enough of the library idea; public works were a mainstay of the Wayne facade. Tim skimmed over it, just saying that a girl he knew was working at the place. Bruce didn’t ask about what Tim had been doing there the same night of the bar fight.

            Tim wasn’t sure what he should do with the information, anyway. Bruce just nodded, presumably filing it away into one of his mental boxes, and told him to get some rest. Alfred had offered him the old room in the manor, but Tim felt more comfortable at his own place these days.

           

            “Hiiiii.”

            Tim looked down as the door to Steph’s apartment opened. Crystal was there, grinning up at him.

            “What’s the password?” She said with a giggle.

            “Um...” Tim pretended to think. “I brought Chinese food?” He held up the paper bag.

            They had planned to go for dinner on Steph’s one night off that week, but the babysitter had cancelled last minute. He’d already been nearby when she’d called to tell him, and there was no point wasting the evening.

            “Did you bring me dumplings?”

            “He brought me dumplings, and if you’re lucky I might let you have one!” Steph replied as she poked her head out from the kitchen. “Come on in Tim. I’m sorry again about all this.”

            “Don’t worry about it,” he said as he walked in, Crystal carefully locking the door behind him.

            Her apartment was small, but clean. The kitchen was barely a nook, and was also the dining room with a table and two chairs.

            Stephanie finished washing a third bowl, turning to face him. She awkwardly gestured around her. “Well... this is home. Single mom chic.”

            “It’s nice,” he said, and they both stood there for a moment.

            “Mom, _ask him!”_ Crystal hissed. “...please.”  Steph snapped out of the funk, ripping open the bag of food and placing cartons on the countertop.

            “Look, she really wanted to watch Alice in Wonderland with you … I totally understand if you don’t want to spend the evening watching a kid’s movie. I’ve seen it five times already since I rented it, but...”

            “It’s so good Mister Tim, especially the Cheshire Cat and the Caterpillar and the flowers _sing_ and...”

            Tim laughed. “It’s fine. It’s been years since I watched it, anyway.”

            Crystal clapped with glee and skipped out into the living room area.

            “Thank you. When she goes to bed we can watch something more interesting, promise.” Steph said.

           

            “No, wait, Mama! It’s Wonder Woman!”

            Steph paused as she was putting the DVD into the player. Tim watched as the news panned out to Diana in front of the UN building. He remembered vaguely Babs telling him she was accepting some sort of award.

            “It must be uncomfortable accepting awards in that outfit,” Steph commented.

            “She looks so pretty, Mama!”

            “Crystal here is a big Wonder Woman fan, if you couldn’t tell.”

            Tim briefly wondered how she’d react to knowing Tim was friends with Diana. He shook the thought away. “She is pretty great.”

            “Who’s your favourite hero, Mister Tim?”

            Tim’s ears burned. “Um... Superman?” He could borrow Dick’s fanboyishness.

            “Not Batman? And you call yourself a Gothamite?” Steph teased him. She’d popped the DVD in and came to sit on the couch next to Tim. He noticed it was really more of a loveseat than a couch - her leg was only inches from his. 

            “Oh, and who’s your favourite then?” He shot back.

            “Robin, duh!” Crystal answered before her mother could answer. “Why else would that be my name?”

            “What?” Tim shot a glance at Steph, who was slightly pink in the cheeks.

            “Shh! It’s starting!” Crystal said, plopping herself on the ground.

            And so Tim had an hour and a half to mull over just what exactly that meant. 


	5. through the tulgey wood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! Another update! Catch me as I swoon. 
> 
> I was hit by a magical inspiration fairy or something. I've kinda forgotten where I was going with the actual plot of this story, but here is some ~~exposition~~ and background information! All is explained! Hopefully I did canon justice. I am uncertain of Tim and Steph's voices; I hope they both sound sincere.

            Crystal was in bed. She was not, however, asleep - evident from the continued giggles emerging from the single bedroom. Tim was staring blankly at the TV’s fuzzy screen, at the endless loop from the VHS. He was burning with curiosity. There was something behind that offhand comment, something he knew was important.

            Steph stepped out of the bedroom, pulling the door shut behind her. She walked over to the TV to pop the tape out.

            “God, this thing is so old-school,” she said, as she began to rewind the tape. “Lucky for me, VHS tapes are dirt cheap these days. I found this thing at a yard sale for 5 bucks, and it still works!”

            Tim nodded absently.

            “Hey.” Steph padded over to him. She put her hands on his shoulder and he looked up into her face. She was smirking at him, and raised an eyebrow as he met her eyes. “Family movie night didn’t scare you off, did it?”

            “No, no - I, sorry. It was fun.”

            “Tim,” Steph said, and she straddled his lap, placing her arms against the sofa behind him. “You’re not a very good liar.”

            His face heated. He automatically reached a hand around to support her back.

            “Listen - can I ask you something? About what Crystal said?”

            “Make it quick,” Steph said, leaning in closer.

            “Just what she said about her name. And Robin?”

            “Oh. God. You caught that little slip-in there.” She shifted her weight back and reached up to fiddle with an earring - it was a nervous habit he’d noticed. “God, this is embarrassing. I was hoping to hide all evidence of being a crazy person until at least the third date.”

            Tim tried to adjust his tone to match hers. “It’d take something pretty serious to scare me off.”

            She scoffed at that. “Yeah, Mister Bigshot, whatever. Okay. You know Batman and Robin? The vigilantes? Of course you know them, you live in Gotham. No rambling. Anyway, back when I was younger and more foolish, there was a different Robin - not the little kid the Bat’s running around with now. I dunno where he finds them. Maybe he grows them, like in a little lab. Anyway. I was young and foolish, and my dad was a crook. A no holds barred criminal. And little impressionable me saw the stupid things Daddy was doing and realised it was bad. And I wanted to stop him.”

            Tim nodded. He was starting to have a feeling where this was heading.

            “My dad was called Cluemaster, and through some impressive and ninja-like stealth, I figured out his secret plans. I figured if I helped Batman out, left some clues for him and the police, they’d be able to stop my dad before he could pull of his schemes. I even sewed up this little purple outfit to wear, called myself Spoiler... God, you must think I was deranged.”

            “No,” Tim said, “it’s... cool. That you were able to do that.” She had no idea. She had no. idea.

            “Looking back, I must’ve been a little bit insane, at least. Anyway, I guess I wasn’t as sneaky as I should’ve been. Guess who found me out?”

            Tim shrugged, helpless.

            “Robin. Honest to God, Batman’s sidekick chased me across a rooftop and tackled me to the ground. And you know what I did? I hit him. In the face, with a brick.”

            Tim remembered. That had _hurt._

            “And then the little creep tracked me down at my house!”

            Yeah, that had taken him some time to make the connection.

            “But... he helped me catch my dad, and send him to jail. Robin was just... I don’t know. I sound like the world’s biggest fangirl. He was just really … human. He was a nice guy. He had the funniest looking hair...”

            He’d been like thirteen. Not fair.

            “And... Dad stayed in jail. He died in there, a few years later. I didn’t go see him or anything. Mom and I... well, we tried to make things work. But, like a typical teenage special, I met a guy, who ended up being a dick and left after the quake. I was pregnant. I was miserable. But on the TV - I kept hearing about Batman and Robin. I would dream about what might have happened if I’d kept the costume, not stopped with my dad. Maybe I could’ve been a hero, too.

            Then Mom died. It was the pills, no doubt about it. I was 8 months along, fat as a whale, freaking fifteen years old. I spent my last month at a shelter, and it sucked. I imagined that Batman would come and Robin would tell me they’d decided I deserved another shot, and I could join their team.

            And so - when Crystal was born... I named her after the person who got me through that hellish nine months - Robin. But I also named her after my mom. Robin Crystal Brown. Maybe she’ll grow up to be a hero, like I couldn’t.”

            Tim wasn’t sure how to process that, but he knew one thing. “Stephanie Brown. You are, without a doubt, one of the most heroic people I’ve ever met. How could you tell that story and not see it?”

            Steph shrugged. “It’s not... it’s not really anything I like to talk about. I got permission to live on my own when I hit 16; the shelter was great with helping me get my GED, getting me a place to live, the works. Now I like to look forward. There’s always room for hope.”

            She gave him a wavery smile. “Sorry to drop this all on you now. Feel free to run away as fast as you like.”

            “No,” Tim said, “I’m pretty much just in awe of how amazing you are.” He needed time to think.

            Brrrrrrrng.

            “Gimme a sec,” he said, “Sorry.” It was the ringtone that meant ‘this is important.’ Steph nodded.

            “Tim. I need you back at the Cave, ASAP.” Bruce growled into his ear.

            “Is everything okay?” Meaning - ‘as Red Robin, or as Tim?’

            “Bring your bike.” Bruce hung up.

 

Tim scrubbed his face with his hand.

            “Listen, Steph. There’s … I have to go back home. Apparently there’s something big going on, Bruce wouldn’t explain... I swear to you - this has absolutely nothing to do with your infatuation with a certain vigilante. I can handle the competition.”

            “I’ll hold you to that. Next time I see Red Robin around, I’ll let him know the famous Tim Drake thinks he can handle him.”

            “...What?” Once again, Tim was thrown off balance.

            “...Well, obviously the new Robin isn’t my Robin! Right around the time my Robin disappeared, Red Robin started showing up. Wasn’t that much of a leap. My Robin graduated Robin school! He got promoted.”

            This left Tim slightly bemused. “So... ‘your’ Robin... is Red Robin?” This was the most confusing conversation of his life.

            “I dunno - but he was in my bar the other night. Good thing you said yes, or I’d’ve been in the clear to ask him out. Imagine going on a date with a vigilante.”

            Yes. Imagine that. “You’ll give me an inferiority complex,” he joked. “I can’t take you on dates to fight crime, sorry.”

            “Somehow, I think, I’ll live.” Steph watched as he put on his jacket. She clasped her hands around his neck. “Call me tomorrow?”

            He nodded, and she kissed him softly. “Thanks for being so cool. About - everything.”

 

            The drive to the mansion left Tim with his thoughts. His thoughts about the blonde girl from six years ago. He thought about the Cluemaster, and about his and Bruce’s puzzlement over the clues. When it had turned out to be his daughter - Tim had been intrigued. She’d been interesting. He’d wondered about her, occasionally, after they’d gotten Arthur Brown in jail... It was... it was almost insane, that he’d meet her again. That she’d be so amazing. It explained, perhaps, the feeling that he knew her. Maybe there was something about the small time they’d shared together that had planted something in his brain.

            What should he do about it, was the pressing question? Tim prided himself on being level-headed, pragmatic, smart. But he was at a loss. Should he tell Bruce? Probably. What if Bruce told him it was a liability, made him break it off? What, exactly, did it mean that he felt oddly happy that Steph called him 'her Robin'? Maybe that was for the better; maybe not an outright lie, it was certainly dishonest, a lie by omission. It made Tim feel ashamed, almost, to hold this strange secret above Steph’s head. Could they have a normal relationship with this giant obstacle in their way? Or would it make it easier.

            The questions buzzed in his brain. He could talk to someone - ask them about it. Dick, maybe, or Alfred. 

 


End file.
